


Paths of Death Lead Me to You

by Skalicia



Series: Skal's DestructiveDeath Corner [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reapertale (Undertale), DestructiveDeath - Freeform, Geno is mentioned, GlitchedDeath - Freeform, M/M, Papyrus is mentioned - Freeform, Post Afterdeath, Soriel is implied, The Anti-Void, Toriel is mentioned - Freeform, but can be taken as close friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23126569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalicia/pseuds/Skalicia
Summary: After Geno went missing, Reaper was lost. How better to find himself - to give himself purpose - than to find the missing soul? Turns out that's a little more complicated than he thought.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Reaper/Geno, Sans/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Toriel (Undertale), reaper/error
Series: Skal's DestructiveDeath Corner [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689784
Comments: 9
Kudos: 168
Collections: Glitchy Boi is Best Boi





	1. Chapter 1

Reaper floated through universes listlessly, searching for the soul he knew was out there somewhere. Normally souls from outside his universe would take themselves to where they needed to be. Most never got reaped due to the potential for a reset, instead waiting in some space between their universe and the space beyond. He was always in charge of the stubborn souls, though. The ones that refused to move on, who would scream, cry, beg, bargain, fight, or sometimes even fighting with the intent to kill, all for their perceived right to live. There was no winning against death. He knew only one case where a stubborn soul escaped succumbing to him after wavering on the edge for so long, but thinking of them hurt in a way that reminded him only of how it hurt to think of Toriel during her disappearance, because of this, just as he did for the goddess, so too did he block out the things that would cause him hurt as he took every available chance to search.

Thoughts of the Goddess of Life reminded him of what he had clutched in his hands. Food, packaged with her neverending well of care, forgotten in his mindless searching. His phalanges twitched around the sustenance he didn’t need. Was this meant for him, or was it meant for when he finally found  _ him _ ? The God of Death could not remember, the memories lost in the same fog that had consumed him since he first realized the disappearance of his second love. Only now did the thought occur to him that he could store the food away in his inventory. He didn’t need it, but the one he was looking for might. Knowing Life, her food was filled with healing magic so potent it could bring back those on the brink. Normally he did not bring such food to mortals, but for this one, he’d make an exception. That soul was his only exception to a lot of the rules he used to live by.

With the food properly tucked away, he continued on once more, searching, longing, hoping, knowing the soul he sought was out there somewhere. It may have vanished, but he would find it. Nobody could escape Death. Not even Life herself could remain hidden from him forever.

He couldn’t remember when it began, but the Protector had begun to follow him whenever he left his brother to take over both their duties so he could go searching. The soulless one would babble ceaselessly on things that tending to escape Reaper’s senses. Ink’s questions often went unanswered as the god was too focused on his search. When the artist had seen he wouldn’t get answers, he began to just start talking about whatever crossed his mind.

Reaper once found him thinking, if only for a brief moment before it was lost to the fog again, that the Protector’s vow to remain separate from the goings-on of the individual universes must not apply to him when he’s outside of his own in this state. It didn’t matter to him anyway. The self-proclaimed Protector of the Multiverse who babbled about Creators on a scale beyond even his own universes deities held no weight to him meant little as long as his search was not interrupted. If the Creators Ink spoke about existed, he couldn’t care as their souls were beyond his reach should they be out there. Besides, those souls would not have the one he was looking for among them.

Eventually, the god was glad for the ceaseless chatter that spilt from his shadow’s mouth. A stranger had appeared after his love had gone missing. A stranger whose origin was as mysterious as the disappearance of the one he was looking for.

For the first time in what felt like forever, one of Reaper’s sockets held light inside of it as he turned to ask for more information.

Error. A dark skeleton with his namesake buzzing about him like flies to a corpse. Self-proclaimed Destroyer of “Unnecessary” Universes. That was who Reaper was to set his search upon now. While he would still look for the soul he’d lost, he put a more conscious effort into trying to find the Destroyer. The one who was likely the cause of hundreds of souls lashing out and screaming at their sudden demise that came before it was their time. Bursts of death he’d been blind to in the fog of loss.

The fog felt mostly lifted at the moment, and the god was thinking clearer. He worked harder when in his universe, so he could leave less for his brother to try and juggle. Toriel and Papyrus were happy to see him returning, though they didn’t question him as to what had caused the change as he obviously did not have his prize yet. For that, he was glad. There was no way he could even begin to fathom telling them of his lead. Rage at the mass loss of life would surely come from the goddess, even if the life was not bestowed by herself. A great sadness would seep from his brother if he knew, which made him all the more glad he was the one in tune with the souls of those whose deaths were violent and unnatural.

Since realizing the loss he’d been blind to and linking it with the one he was now looking for, the god began to focus his efforts on trying to be more aware of when the mass outcries occurred. Maybe, just maybe, he could get to them before the universe and the souls withing vanished without a trace. Then he could at least catch a glimpse of the Destroyer he was looking for. Maybe seeing him would let him know if somehow this stranger was tied to the one who was missing.

To some degree, he also found himself longing for the Protector to return. He’d not caught glimpse of the other since he’d been told of Error’s existence. Were it most others, the Reaper might have even found it in him to offer at least a vague sense of worry no matter how little he actually felt it, but he knew better than to fret over the wellbeing of the soulless one. Ink would be fine, and would probably state that fact was thanks to his Creators.

As he waited and watched, Reaper was beginning to sense a pattern in the deaths that lead up to the final demise of a universe. First, anyone who previously held the ability to control time was targeted. Second, the human soul would vanish from his senses despite the way death permeated around them just before they disappeared. Then any of a select group of monsters who might still be alive would perish too, most filled with anger as they tried to claw their way back to life to attack the one that killed them. After that, the universe and all the souls within would vanish in the universe’s death, echos of dying screams from both the universe and its inhabitants reaching out to him despite no longer existing.

His past attempts to reach the dying universes had only gotten him there too late, chasing echos of what once was there instead of finding what he was looking for. He was more sure of his ability to reach the next universe in time.

So when the cycle began to repeat itself, he caught on quick, and made his move.

He’d never anticipated being within a universe under siege by the Destroyer would feel so horrible, and yet there was an underlying feeling of familiarity to the LV oppressive magic that filled the air as strings were scattered carelessly. The god would not be so easily undone, not with all he had to do. Pulling his power to him in a display that would have left any living souls terrified should there have been more than dust present, he turned his back to the scars in the ground and the web of blue so that he could head towards the epicentre of this power.

Just as expected, the skeleton that matched Ink’s descriptions was fighting the native Judge in the Last Corridor. Normally, Reaper did not meddle in the affairs of mortals. He did not stop death from happening, he simply waited for them to finish and then collected the soul that did not want to leave. This time, given how these deaths were not supposed to be occurring, he made an exception.

Strings guiding blasters were severed by his scythe before he appeared between the combatants, his cloak wisping into chilling darkness due to the power that clung to him as he stood to preserve the life not yet due for his touch. Vulgarities were spewed forth from the mouths of both participants of the deadly battle. The one behind him in surprise, while the one before him sounded suspiciously like it teetered on the edge of a tantrum.

The God of Death spared barely a glance over his shoulder at the wavering mortal. He commanded them to leave, he had business to attend to. They were smart and knew better than to argue with him, lest their fears come true and he ended them despite how hard they’d fought to avoid such a fate. No need in telling them that he wouldn’t really have done such a thing. The grey child would take care of them and any remaining few now.

When they vanished from view, he stepped simply to the side. Blaster fire scorched a divot in the tile where he’d stood. Frustrated screeching that held static like he’d heard from strange devices in other universes rung through the air. Meaningless, angry noise to vent the Destroyer’s frustrations at losing his target. To match, more attacks were flung his way blindly, not one doing the harm that was intended.

As the Destroyer panted for breath while scowling upon his opponent, Reaper reached out to his soul. Not in the way that one would reach to pull forth a soul or to use magic on it. Instead, he reached in the way that only Death could. Not to reap the soul, but to inspect it and the unique lifeforce attached to it.

It was as he’d suspected upon learning of Error’s existence. This was the soul he was looking for.

“Ge-”

His voice cut off as he was cut up. Strings that had littered the battlefield, which the god had ignored as attacks that lingered after their use was complete, snapped together to not only catch him in a net, but slice into his bones and pull his body apart. His head separated from his body to land upon the ground with a resounding hollow noise before it rolled. Black sockets staring out in the shock that had overcome him at the attack.

The Destroyer let out an annoyed noise, not seeming aware of the tears that were caught in the corners of his sockets. Instead of pursuing the survivors who’d escaped from his strings in a way that Death had not, he simply turned. An unstable doorway pulled itself together from dancing blocks that showed vast swathes of white beyond, but more strikingly, from a low angle, blue strings holding red souls could be seen in the distant white above. The black skeleton stepped through, black bones standing in stark contrast to the white that swallowed him whole. Then, the doorway was gone, taking with it the sight of the dust-covered skeleton.

In the shadow of the pillar where they’d clattered, scattered bones melded into the darkness they rested in. Reaper felt numb, unsure of what to think or feel. He’d found what he’d been looking for, albeit tainted and twisted during the time they’d been apart. Yet instead of the potential bone-crushing hug full of tears, he’d instead had his bones crushed as a tear-streaked face glared out at him.

What had happened? What had turned his finally happy lover into this in the time he’d been missing? What had given the mostly ordinary mortal the power to pull apart his form like that? It hadn’t killed him, but for the one who used to be no more powerful than those like him, the power to even hurt him shouldn’t have been possible. As much as it hurt him to think, while it was the soul he’d been looking for, it wasn’t the person he’d been hoping to find.


	2. Chapter 2

Normally, a deity who’d sustained damage beyond a small scrape would need to retreat to their domain to rest and recover. Normally, most deities didn’t have potent healing food made by the Goddess of Life herself at their disposal. Reaper was lucky. It wouldn’t do to be worrying his brother about what happened, and this would also let him keep going. Though even healing magic had its limits and he had to get back to helping his brother eventually.

That white space the dark skeleton had wandered into never left his mind as he thought on what to do next. It was so empty, except for those souls and the strings that had held them. He’d heard isolation was bad for mortals, but was that really what was happening, or was that just some strange doorway that only appeared that way, or some space between the Destroyer’s realm and the rest of the multiverse?

He was sure to ask the Protector about the white space when he next saw him. A stubborn soul in another universe had him straying from his own to collect it, and the floating thoughts of the other were put in line as Reaper asked questions while going about his duties. Not once did Ink seem to pause to question if he should be sharing information, seeming too eager to share the scattered knowledge of Error that he’d retained with someone. The god was thankful for that, not knowing what he’d do if the Protector had denied him the information.

Unfortunately, that information wasn’t much. The Destroyer kept to himself beyond his self-appointed job, and thus not even the Protector and his non-existent nose that was stuck into everything regardless of boundaries knew much. The mysterious glitch seemed touch adverse, and would snap answers at the air. The soulless one called that behaviour strange before telling the giant brush he carried with him in a matter of fact tone that he was not being rude.

What he did know was that universes had begun to vanish unexpectedly, not tied to the Creators growing bored or scraping their creations - whatever that meant, it gave the Protector a fearful aura - which was presumed to be the work of the Destroyer. That would tie in with the souls not being due yet when they cried out in upset at their untimely deaths. Along with that, was that the glitching skeleton used strings on top of normal Sans type attacks, though he guided his blasters with his strings. All of which Reaper was already aware of from his short encounter.

When asked where the Destroyer went to after his rampages, the Protector simply shrugged. He had no idea beyond the white of the portal, and he couldn’t reach or find wherever that place was. Though he spoke of somebody who’d talked of being there before on their own volition outside of Error, though Ink seemed less sure in sharing more about that. It took some persistence, along with the appearance of Reaper’s scythe at his side in a cheap tactic to push at the universal fear of all living things, in order to get the artist to talk. The Protector didn’t seem scared, but also appeared to have noticed that if he didn’t speak, he’d have some problems.

It was with that information that the god had his next target in mind. The colourful mess that was described to him didn’t seem like it’d be hard to miss in the cases of some universes. Plus, if this Fresh character could really traverse universes while having a soul, then it’d likely feel out of place in a way that the god could recognize.

The first time he’d seen the one called Fresh, he had to do a double-take at the strange absurdity. He knew to expect bright colours, yet that had not prepared him for the reality of the other’s appearance. Even his travel throughout the multiverse had given him nothing to truly anticipate just what he finally laid eyes on.

At least he’d been prepared for the soul being very out of place, definitely originating in a universe that wasn’t the one both travellers currently resided in. Strangely, despite appearing perfectly fine and healthy with no problems, the soul was giving the god signs of being in the process of dying a slow and unnatural death. While odd, there was nothing he could do at the moment, but perhaps he could offer some of Toriel’s cooking as payment for bringing him to where the Destroyer resided.

Before any such offers could be made, he had to first approach the bright skeleton. That turned out to be harder than he would’ve liked. Not only due to the populated areas Fresh was currently traversing where Reaper didn’t want to accidentally kill somebody, but also because Fresh seemed to be making an active effort to avoid him after noticing his presence.

It was an understandable reaction, and usually, such behaviour would have the god backing off. However this was his only lead, and he wouldn’t let the colourful one escape him that easily. The attempts at losing him were mere nuisances. Even if he somehow lost sight of the bright colours that marked the one attempting to escape him, he knew the soul and could follow that.

Eventually, he stopped outside a door. The soul he was searching for sat inside, unmoving. He’d lost sight of the bright coloured skeleton a few minutes ago, so the soul guided him to his target. Oddly enough, he noted the feeling of a slow death weighing upon the soul was no longer present.

The door was locked, but that just made Reaper chuckle. No door could keep out death. He slipped through into the storage closet as his godly aura darkened the aura around him. A light quietly hummed a greeting to him from its spot in the ceiling. It gifted him with the ability to see that his own aura could never provide. However, even it struggled to illuminate the soul tucked away in the corner as if they’d been put to bed there. Even in the dimmer light, there was little doubt that this was not Fresh. Unless he had a change of clothes on hand and was quick to switch clothing and tuck it away again. That still did not explain why he appeared to be resting and unaware of the very being he was evading before.

Fortunately, the god knew how to summon the Protector and some of those large jugs of water resided in the closet. He moved one away from the others so as to not disturb things too much. The top was no match for the blade of his scythe, and with the water exposed to the rest of the room, he called for the one he wanted to see. Some might find the process of the water twisting to form a living being some kind of awe-inspiring feat, but it was something mundane to the god. Such was the way of living among beings hard for mortals to comprehend.

Getting called by the God of Death seemed to excite the Protector, and he reached to drink from one of his vials. It took a minute to get him to stop his rambling long enough to point out the mortal in the room and question Ink about what had occurred. This soul had held the traits of who he’d been searching for, and yet now no trace of Fresh seemed to remain beyond the soul itself.

With another sip of a vial, Ink flushed dark enough to cause freckles to wash over his face. It lasted long enough to give the impression of shame before he launched into an explanation of how Fresh worked. Fresh was not a monster, but a parasite, clinging to and feeding from the souls he catches. Reaper was informed that since the Parasite was trying to escape him, he must have grabbed another host and left behind this one upon taking a guess as to how the god was keeping up.

That explained, the Protector went and picked up the unconscious skeleton. To return them from where they came. Given the damage to their soul, Reaper retrieved some of the food from his inventory to offer up. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a need for him to have it on him, and with the constant worry of the Goddess of Life being directed at him and for those he might encounter, there tended to always be enough to not have to worry about such things.

The next time the God of Death saw the Parasite, more care was taken in his approach. Keeping out of sight, he revealed himself only when he was a safe, but talkable, distance away. The Parasite hadn’t flinched as he’d expected. At least, not until he turned and saw who had spoken to him. There was little time to act with how Fresh was withdrawing to escape, so Reaper pleaded for help quickly.

Given the plea was not expected, it was enough to cause any attempt at extracting from this confrontation pause. Curiosity and fear seemed to war inside whatever the Parasite had for a head. Reaper gave him that time to deliberate with himself. Slowly, enough so that it could be witnessed, curiosity won out and the god was asked what he might need help with. So rare was it that a god required help that mortals tended to not expect such requests or pleas.

All that curiosity within the Parasite only appeared to grow as Reaper requested aid in reaching the Destroyer’s domain. Not wanting to share personal information, the god simply stated that the Destroyer’s soul was one that had escaped him, and perhaps was the cause of other missing souls. Letting his occupation appear to be the driving factor let a shiver grow along the host’s spine, betraying the Parasite’s discomfort with the topic. Thankfully, that discomfort dissuaded further questions. Only the most important question remained; how could Fresh even think of transporting a being he could not touch?

Solution already known, Reaper extended a glove covered hand between the two of them. Gloves that were meticulously handcrafted by Life herself to facilitate short contact between him and a mortal as it held his cursed touch at bay for no longer than a few minutes. What the Parasite was not told was the original purpose of their creation was. The God of Death wanting to keep a mortal lover alive while still being able to give some physical affection was something no one outside of those who already knew needed to be privy to.

There was natural caution in taking the offered hand, so hopefully instil more faith, Reaper moved just far enough as to where he could reach out to touch a nearby tree. When it remained perfectly healthy, the Parasite seemed to grow intrigued. Taking this as a good sign, the god moved closer once more while still offering a safe buffer so that nothing more than hands needed to touch.

An aching eternity seemed to pass before a hand with fingerless gloves slid into his own with the shake of one unsure if their actions would lead to certain doom. When things were fine, it was like some sort of barrier was broken and the Parasite let out a laugh Reaper could hear was hollow before he spouted out some gibberish the god could not understand. Trying to limit how long he’d need to be exposed to such mannerisms, he simply offered a reminder that there was a limit to how long the protection would last. A spark of fear pushed the Parasite into action, and in a strange rainbow puff of smoke, the world around them was left behind.

White eternity stretched out for as far as visibly possible in every direction, interrupted only by the black robe belonging to the God of Death. He was utterly alone with no idea if the direction he’d chosen to head was even the right one. The Parasite had abandoned him to the unyielding domain with little fanfare, likely more than relieved to be able to remove himself from the god’s presence. With him gone, the only evidence that remained of there even being a floor was how the lengths of Reaper’s wisping robe was displaced to pool out across it as it trailed along with him. Not even a fade glimpse of blue or red from the strings and souls he’d seen through the Destroyer’s portal were visible from where he’d been dropped off.

This place was lonely.

Such was one thought that passed through the god’s mind as he continued on using determination like that which had let the one he was looking for exist in the first place to drive him forward. Determination that was tied to both the accounts of his previous deviation, and the experiments that were the last known thing he’d been doing before his disappearance.

Other thoughts were directed to the deafening silence that echoed endlessly around him. This place was quieter than death itself. Yet, strangely, that silence also roared as if it was hundreds of voices chattering over each other in the vacuum of nothingness. If he wasn't so focused on searching, if he stopped to listen, there would be no surprise if it all tried to drag him into the same kind of madness that had taken the other gods after Life had vanished, or perhaps try to warp him like how the Destroyer must have come to be. The driving search kept the muttering quiet from his mind, protecting him from most of it.

The anti-void, as the Parasite had referred to it, was strange to Reaper. Not only did it exist tied to every universe, and thus make him feel more connected to the multiverse he inhabited than ever before, but there was something strangely isolating about being here. Unsure of how to begin describing it, he wondered if maybe the ability to feels souls in their universes was muted. It was with this thought that he cultivated an idea. Perhaps reaching out to the souls that he had seen in the strings could guide him on where to look, should his powers reach however far in this infinity they were from him.

Fortune appeared to be on his side, to which he’d have to thank its goddess when he returned home. Hundreds of souls were crying out in fear and confusion in the far distance, but they were quiet in a way that space between them could not create. It was as if they weren’t fully aware of their fate. Perhaps that was for the best while they resided in this maddening abyss.

Closing his empty sockets, he let the cries of the souls guide him. Souls from inside of universes called out to him, but he ignored them. Having to track down the Parasite and start his search within the anti-void would waste time he refused to lose. It’d been much too long since he last saw the Destroyer, even longer since he last caught a glimpse of the person who’d had that soul before. Patience often had limits, and he was struggling with his own. He could still vividly remember the joke Geno had told him upon finding out his origin. A black hole for affection, he’d been called so lovingly. Even Toriel had been amused upon learning of what the God of Death had been called, even if there was something sad in her eye.

Thinking of the soul fragment, its presence was missing from those in this strange place. Perhaps the Destroyer was off someplace else, though Reaper could not sense any universes under siege at the moment. Whatever had pulled the dark skeleton away, the god could find it in himself to wait for that to finish. Just a little longer and he’d be able to see the one he’d searched so long for. The thought pushed him forward faster. Every moment bringing him that much closer to where the souls waited, and where he’d surely find the Destroyer when the other returned to this place.

Opening his sockets, there was some relief to see colour other than the black of Death’s robe in this eternity. Comfort could also be found in the blue of the strings appearing as either a ceiling or a sky, whichever one it was didn’t matter much to the god. Red dotted itself within, marking each soul he could now feel with more clarity than any from all the multiverse at this moment. What really drew his attention though, were the specks of other colours clustered together. Pushing off the strange ground, he took off to investigate the strange pocket.

As he drew nearer, the cluster made the fact that it was a collection of nonmagic string in the form of what was mostly a collection of puppets, with a few dolls tucked in the cluster as well. All were crocheted with a familiar style to them, but Reaper held his emotions carefully in check. That self-control went out the window upon spotting a carefully crafted doll that matched his visage.

With all the care of somebody handling the most fragile thing in existence, he extracted the doll from the collection and drifted slowly back down to the floor. His thumbs brushing delicately across the expert recreation of himself. Care was so obviously put into this to such high degrees that he couldn’t help the few tears that gathered in his sockets.

Those tears only grew in number when he pulled out an old keepsake of his own. The small doll of Geno smiled up at him, happily matching its fellow doll, though it held hallmarks of somebody not quite used to the craft. He could still remember the flustered look on his mortal lover’s face upon presenting that doll. His poor love looking seconds away from taking away the first full doll he’d completed back so that it could be disposed of. Since then, the small doll had been a personal treasure, kept close and given the hugs he could no longer give to the one it shared its appearance with. Eventually, he’d even gotten it a pair of cute glasses to match his love properly, the pair sitting upon its face even now.

So caught up in his memories like he was, the god didn’t even notice he wasn’t alone anymore. Strings stealing the dolls from his careful embrace were the rude awakening to this fact. Rubbing at his sockets with a sleeve, he twisted while moving to raise himself to his feet. More strings caught him before he was even able to fully do so on his own. They still moved to let him face the other skeleton despite this.

The Destroyer was glaring down at the dolls, though with how well the God of Death knew who he’d been in the past, he could tell that the glare was more of a mask for the squinting he was doing to try and properly comprehend just what he was looking at. Where were his glasses? Had he lost them at some point? Was he in one of his stubborn moods and that’s why he wasn’t wearing them? The longer the squinting continued, the more it turned into a scowl as it focused in on the Geno doll.

“WHEre did YoU GET thIS?”

After so long spent in silence, the sudden voice pulled a physical startle from the god. This pulled the strings tight, letting them dig into bone and give an unpleasant reminder of his last encounter with the glitch. Fighting off a grimace, he instead focused on searching for any signs of recognition in the other’s sockets. A poor memory was to be expected after the last time they met not sparing him from the strings, but his chest ached at how no hint of fondness filled the red voids or multicoloured sparks of light that looked upon him. Simply a scowl with a tint of confusion.

“You made it for me.”

For being a god, Reaper’s voice was quiet in the space between the two skeletons. The Destroyer’s voice had held more power when he’d spoken, though he didn’t visibly hold that power as he turned his gaze back upon the mostly white doll once more. More confusion grew upon the dark skeleton’s skull the longer he stared down at it.

“i nEV- I hAVEN- ThIs is Not mInE,” Error spoke with a sureness in his shiting voice. Though after a moment he hesitated. “bUt WHo couLD hAVE kNOwn AnD tOlD...?” his eyes narrowed as he glared off to the side at nothing in particular. “Who haVE YoU BeEn taTtLING to?”

Not knowing if he was being addressed, the God of Death stayed silent as he watched the Destroyer. Concern pinched at his brow while he watched the other start to argue with nothing. After a moment though, he wondered if it really was nothing, because it almost felt like that strange loudness to the silence was louder despite the fact that the glitchy voice was now filling the air and should be getting rid of it.

Head spinning from the strangeness of it all, he tried to move his head to rub at his skull despite the bonds that held it. All that got him was the strings pulling tight and the now grumpy glitch to turn on him, accusing him of trying to attack while he was distracted. Despite his denials being true, it didn’t seem to be getting across very well. Clenching fists in anger drew the Destroyer’s attention back down to the dolls in his hands. Strings curled down from above to gather the Reaper doll and return it to the collection, but a scathing look was cast upon the Geno doll.

“A sHoDDy REpliCA,” he called it.

Reaper huffed indignantly, defending the doll with the same adoration for something his lover had made for him as the day it’d been presented to him. The glitch scoffed, shaking the doll and criticizing it.

“If you hate it so much, then return it!” was eventually pulled from the god as he kicked his legs with a stubborn rage fueling him. This only prompted a mischievous look to appear on the Destroyer’s face, which quickly grew into a grin that bordered on something more sinister. A portal that shoved nothing but an expanse of lava below opened up next to the glitch.

“I tHINk I'D RAtHeR Do SoMeThiNg LIke tHis,” came his taunting voice.

Horror instantly extinguished the anger inside of the god, his empty sockets widening. Wasn’t having Geno vanish enough torment? He couldn’t lose that precious treasure given to him by his love as well. He wanted to believe that enough of Geno was still inside of Error that he wouldn’t do it, but at the same time, he had a feeling Geno would have done the same thing to the doll if given the chance all that time ago. Trapped within the strings he could not even properly attempt to reach for the soft memory.

Time seemed to slow as the doll was released into the portal. Power driven by emotion flooded Reaper’s system as his left socket flashed brightly. A spinning scythe formed within the air and cut effortlessly through the strings tying him. The Destroyer seemed alarmed, but the god did not look at him. Instead, that focus was entirely targetted at the endangered doll. With no thought put into his actions, Reaper swept past Error to dive through the portal himself. The anti-void and Destroyer be damned, he couldn’t lose this too.

Fingers brushing against the doll were but a momentary relief. True relief would not come until he had it tucked safely inside his robe once more.

Heat swirled around him, heavy, but not enough that it could slow him or his treasure as they plummeted towards a fiery doom. One that he could recover from, but the toy could not if it was not under his robe by the time they hit.

He almost felt as if he could cry when he managed to grab the doll. Not wasting time, it was haphazardly shoved inside his robe. If it sat uncomfortably, then it was something that could be fixed when he was sure it was safe. Better then than now, where he could finally focus on the lava rushing to greet him.

At this point, there was nothing the god could do. He was far too close to the lava to attempt to save himself. Hitting it would hurt, the flames that would burst forth covering his being before he’d be able to pull himself out of the universe would be momentarily overwhelming, but they would not reach inside his robe. That was the most important detail.

Closing his sockets, he prepared to be seared and scorched as he dug up the ability to leave. Something which proved to be futile as he was jerked to a stop by thin lines of pressure crisscrossing up and down his body. Much too close to danger for comfort, he discovered through momentarily cracking open a socket. Mere breaths away from his hanging position was a painful way to die. He supposed he could be glad to be a skeleton in this moment, on top of being a god, as that meant he wasn’t being cooked alive by the oppressive heat that weighed upon him.

With a jerk, he was pulled at alarming speeds away from the pit of potential doom. It was still processing in his mind that he had not had to pull away from the mortal world to recover, and was instead moving back through a blocky portal into a space void of colour beyond the handful of things not naturally found inside the space. Not even when he was thrown to the indistinguishable floor did it really hit. Not until the scolding began as he stared numbly up at the messy weaving of strings in what could be called a sky above him.

“WHat soRT oF IDiOT ThroWs ThemSeLveS AT a pOol Of laVA FOr A dOLl???”

Unbidden, laughter began to bubble forth. Reaper couldn’t help himself. The glitchy demands for him to stop mixed with questioning on what was so funny didn’t help either. Sneaking a glance at Error, tears also joined the mix at the familiar frustrated sort of scolding expression on his face. Sobs mixed with laughs in a strange sort of sound. Was it stupid to say that he missed this? Not the throwing himself in danger part, but the part where he’d done something stupid to make Geno tell him off, only to grow frustrated when he attempted to dodge the scolding through puns or some distracting remark. Error even shared the easy to miss way that Geno would vaguely puff out his cheeks at Reaper’s behaviour.

The ache in his chest guiding him, he moved a hand to rest over his sternum. More tears spilling from his sockets as his hand touched the doll in where it’d ended up in his hasty attempt to save it. It was so hard to believe he’d almost lost it. All of it felt more like some kind of cruel dream rather than reality.

“If I’m such an idiot, why save me?”

He eventually worked up the ability to respond. It was amusing to watch the way Error sputtered and struggled for words as a dusting of blue settled upon his cheeks. The colour change well hidden among the tear streak markings that messily flowed down the black bone.

“it's NOT LIkE yoU'd StAY Dead, AlReAdY Tried tHAT, sO IT'd juST be A WaSTE OF TiMe to WaIt FOR yoU tO RandoMLY REApPEar AgaIn.”

“Aww!~ You care about me!~”

Amused cackles left the god as he slipped easily back into the habit of teasing he’d picked up to see some of the cute faces Geno could make. Watching Error make some of his own as he tried to piece together a response made his chest ache in both familiarity and mourning. It was so familiar and yet foreign.

“I do NOT!! I JUst- I HaVe QuesTIONs OnLY YOu CaN ansWEr, so iT'd Waste my Time iF yOu DiSappEAred rIGht NOw Is alL.”

Reaper’s smile twitched down for a moment as his chest gave a painful throb at the denial of care. Despite how familiar this all felt, this wasn’t really Geno, was it? Error had Geno’s soul, and so many of his characteristics, and yet the memories that he’d so lovingly made with Geno were all gone, like they’d never existed in the first place. Like they didn’t matter.

As much as being around Error hurt with how it reminded him of the loss of Geno, he found himself not wanting to leave. Was that just because this was all that remained of his former lover, or was there something else at play? For now, he didn’t know, nor did he much care either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that short story done.~ I have a few more ideas for related shorts, but for this story, that's it.  
> I've been really craving some Destructivedeath content, so finally making some myself just really helped that slump in writing I've been having lately.  
> ~~~  
> Feel free to come yell at me over at [my writing tumblr.](https://skaliciascribbles.tumblr.com/)


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